


My Love, My Heart

by caffeinatednightowl



Series: Daughter of Dusk [7]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Au Ra Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Au Ra Xaela Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Crystal Tower Questline (Final Fantasy XIV), Crystal Tower Questline G'raha Tia (Final Fantasy XIV: A Realm Reborn), Day At The Beach, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Female Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers, Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers Spoilers, First Kiss, First Time, Jealousy, Kissing, Loss of Virginity, Marking, Mating Bites, Morning After, Morning Sex, Nightmares, Oral Sex, Patch 5.0: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Patch 5.3: Reflections in Crystal, Patch 5.3: Reflections in Crystal Spoilers, Patch 5.4: Futures Rewritten, Patch 5.4: Futures Rewritten Spoilers, Post-Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers, Post-Patch 5.3: Reflections in Crystal, Pregnancy, Sexual Content, Vaginal Sex, Woman on Top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-18 17:09:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28870593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caffeinatednightowl/pseuds/caffeinatednightowl
Summary: "I want to kiss you for all the stars in the sky..."Every kiss has a moment, here are ten moments for Mara and G'raha.
Relationships: G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Warrior of Light
Series: Daughter of Dusk [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2024647
Comments: 25
Kudos: 82





	1. Cheek

**Author's Note:**

> My take on the kisses prompt that was posted in the [bookclub](https://discord.gg/enabling-debauched-xivfic) discord. The kisses prompt is as follows: One ship, ten kisses shared; on the cheek, forehead, top of head, nose, eyelids, lips, neck, thigh, hand, foot. Bonuses for ten scenes, and each partner imitates half the kisses. I saw this challenge and mulled it over for a bit, but in the end, decided to do it for my favorite ship (also, to break out of the angst that's gonna show up soon when the Shadowbringers fic starts.) There will be explicit chapters, but they will be marked as such.
> 
> As this story wasn't done in chronological order, if you wish to read chronoligically, the correct order would be:  
> 9\. Hand  
> 2\. Forehead  
> 3\. Top of Head  
> 4\. Nose  
> 6\. Lips  
> 1\. Cheek  
> 8\. Thigh  
> 5\. Eyelids  
> 7\. Neck  
> 10\. Foot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mara wakes up from a nightmare, and wonders why G'raha's light is on...

It was late in the night when Mara jerked awake—thrown back into the waking world from the nightmare that gripped her. Jerking up in bed, sweat heavy on her brow, as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she saw flashes of the nightmare in her mind— _Zenos rushing forward, katana outstretched—a spear of piercing light, flashing down—Raha disappearing into sharp blue crystal, as she screamed and wept could do nothing but watch—_

Panting slightly, Mara sat up, pushing slightly damp bangs out of her eyes. Nightmares were nothing new; she had seen plenty enough to cause them. But ever since they had returned to the Source, for good, there had been a new, frightening edge them them—

_His ruby eyes turning dull as the crystal crackled and grew over, her heart bottoming out as she knew he was gone—_

She placed a hand over her heart, as it fluttered beneath her fingertips. Taking deep breaths, she tried to calm herself, _It was a dream, just a dream—there’s nothing wrong, Raha’s_ here. _He’s_ safe…

But that wasn’t enough to stop the beat in her heart, the chill of dread in her bones. It had been a close call—one wrong move, and she would’ve lost him forever. Who was to say that next time, things would turn out the same? Next time, she might not be enough…he might not be…

Taking another breath, Mara drew back the quilt of her bed in the Rising Stones, stepping a bare foot to the cold floor. She hissed at the chill, but it was a welcome chill—a reminder that she was awake—she was _alive_. And this was reality; nightmares could not touch her here. As she stood up, her long sleep shirt (a soft, Elezen tunic she had purchased in Ishgard—it was obviously much too big to wear normally, but as soft as it was, it had made fine bedclothes back then, when she Alphinaud, and Tataru had come as exiles with nothing but the clothes on their backs) fell forward, almost to her knees, but it was loose enough that her tail could swish around, unhindered.

She gently pushed the door of her room open, wincing at the slight _creeeeak_ , hoping she didn’t wake anyone up. Perhaps she would go to the kitchenette, get some water, calm herself some more. But as she walked down the hallway, she came to a stop, seeing a faint light coming from one of the doors at the end of the hall. Who? She walked a bit forward before she remembered—it had once been Lyse’s room, but had been vacant since Lyse had left the Scions to rebuild Ala Mhigo. Now it was _Raha’s_ room.

Raha was awake? At this hour? It was well past midnight—what on _earth_ was he doing?

Slowly, Mara stepped forward, careful not to make a sound. Was he all right? Perhaps he too was feeling the effects of their return. Did he have nightmares, too? He had been in the First for a hundred years…who knew what he had seen? And before that, when he first awoke in the tower, awoke to a ruined world without a hope of being saved…

They hadn’t really talked about it, after all. Perhaps they should have—after their return to the Source, when he pulled her in his arms and told her that he loved her, he’d loved her since almost the moment he met her—in any fairy tale, any story a bard worth his salt would’ve told, that would’ve been the end of it. “Happily Ever After,” as the Eorzeans said? But it was not the end—there was so much more left to do. Garleans, and now unhinged Ascians running amok…

But they would need to have that discussion eventually. He had been through so much…and she would listen to him, hold him, when he wanted to tell her.

They barely got a chance to be together as it was. They had duties, as Scions, and those duties would have to come first. So they had decided, even before coming down from the tower, that they would keep this quiet for a while, not necessarily _secret_ , but…private. That was a good word.

Perhaps they would get more of a chance on their trip to Othard coming up. The other Scions had agreed to check out all the towers that had appeared all over Eorzea, as if to discern a pattern to them. Mara would be going to Othard—due to the language barrier of course. But she had tried very hard not to look too pleased when Raha piped up he would go with her. “I’ve never been, and I would love to see the beauty of Othard as it has been described to me…if you will allow it, of course.” He had said, the tiniest hint of a smile on his face. _Of course_ she would allow it, though she had to take care not to look _too_ pleased—Y’shtola had given her a bit of a knowing look, but other than that…

But if he was up late now with worries, maybe she should ask him about it now. Perhaps he had awoken from nightmares as well? Maybe they could share their burdens, lean on each other, as they embarked on this new sort of relationship that had nearly just begun, and yet, felt _right_ in a way Mara could never explain. Like pieces of a puzzle, they fit together in such a way that no one else ever had—though years had gone by without him, even though she had been determined to hate him for how much he had hurt her after shutting himself in the Crystal Tower—she never could forget him. Never could stop loving him. Even as the Crystal Exarch she had been drawn to him, fell in love with him anyway.

It had always been _him_ and no one else.

 _If he’s in pain, I want to help_ , she thought, steeling herself outside his door. _I want to take care of him, make him feel loved…so he’s never lonely again._

With another breath to prepare herself, Mara gently, slowly pushed open the door, squinting her eyes in the soft candlelight. “Raha?” she asked, peeking in. “Are you all right?”

He wasn’t at the bed, like she had expected; he was sitting on the floor, still in his everyday clothes. Papers and sketched designs were scattered around him, and he held up a battered notebook and quill, writing intently, while staring at the Allagan node they had brought back from Azys Lla. His crimson hair was mussed, with several long strands falling out of his braid, as if he had rubbed it in frustration. “Can you give me more details about the one they called ‘Amon?’ It sounds like most of the Allagan nobles didn’t like him much.”

_“Bzzrt. Correct. Archives indicate no less than twelve separate complaints lodged over his behavior, shall I go through them, Your Royal Highness?”_

Mara couldn’t help the little chuff of laughter. Apparently Raha still hadn’t gotten around to telling the node that he was not, in fact, the ‘Royal Highness’ that the node presumed. Now she was beginning to doubt he _ever_ would…

“Yes, that’s…” Raha turned, catching sight of her in the doorway. Perhaps he heard her little laugh? “Oh, Mara? I didn’t realize you were there.” He said a bit sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck in a nervous gesture. “This little node is fascinating, I can access the whole of the Allagan archives with it! Well, the ones that still exist, anyway.”

“I am glad you got more use of it, _Your Royal Highness,_ ” she chuckled, kneeling next to him on the floor as Raha blushed as red as his hair.

“That is…well…” He fumbled with his fingertips for a moment as she laughed again.

 _“Bzzrt,”_ went the node as it lit up. _“Does the handmaiden have some business with His Royal Highness?”_

“Why, yes, the handmaiden does,” Mara smirked as Raha flushed harder, averting his ruby eyes. “Sorry, I saw a light on and was worried about you.”

“Hmm?” He turned back to her, resting his elbow on his knee. “Why were you worried?”

It was probably too much to explain it all—her nightmares, the things about the many years he lived that he still left unspoken—instead she said, “Raha, it is _bells_ past midnight.”

He blinked. Again. Glanced back at the Allagan node. “It _is?_ ” He blanched, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t even realize…I only discovered what else lay inside this node and then…”

Mara laughed again, leaning up against his shoulder. “Do not worry,” she said softly, a hand on his arm. “My Allagan scholar,” she reached up and placed a soft, gentle kiss on his cheek.

If possible, he flushed harder, and she chuckled again, leaning her head against his shoulder. Despite his embarrassment, he leaned into her touch; gently draped his arm over her waist to pull her closer. Yes, perhaps there were still some things unspoken, but they could work that out as things moved along. This relationship had barely begun, after all. For now, she would enjoy— _love_ —the way he always made her smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to see more great ffxiv fic, join our [bookclub](https://discord.gg/enabling-debauched-xivfic)!


	2. Forehead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Crystal Exarch worries about the Warrior of Darkness.

The Crystal Exarch fought the urge to run as he made his way to the Pendants, fear creeping up in his gut.

 _“Something’s wrong with her_ ,” Minfilia— _Ryne—_ had said, as they reported to the Ocular, conspicuously _without_ the Warrior of Darkness. “ _She seems to be in pain. And the light…it’s stronger. Will she be all right?”_

 _By the Twelve, I hope so_ , he thought, gritting his teeth. It was his fault she was in pain, _his_ fault the light tormented her as it did. And he had allowed it knowing the consequences, for her, for _him_ , for this broken world. He had permitted it, knowing that it must be done.

_I will put you through so much pain, so much anguish still…I just pray my dearest wish still comes to fruition._

_No matter the cost, if this is what it takes to grant her life, then I will do it without a second thought._

The master of the Pendants was surprised to see the Crystal Exarch, but did not deter him at all. “Oh, yes, she came in a while ago, looking weary. Is she all right?” the man asked, shuffling some papers on his desk, seemingly worried, but only just.

“I hope it is nothing more than weary from travel; she has just come back from Amh Araeng, after all.” The Exarch gave the man a smile, hollow as it was. “I will check on her myself, if you don’t mind?”

“No, not at all, My Lord, I hope she feels better as well.”

So many lies, so many secrets…lies to _her_ , to his people, even to himself. There were so many lies that the Exarch felt trapped in them, in a web of his own making—tangled and twisted and now it was impossible to get out.

But that did not matter. His lies would die with him; it was the price he must pay. And he would pay it with willing arms.

For the future.

For _her._

Still, there was that small moment of nervousness as he stood in front of her door. Like a nervous, lovestruck boy, before the object of his affections. There was some similarities in that, to be sure, but the Exarch was no longer a _boy_. He had lived many times over a natural lifespan, and with that came all the wisdom of a man…

Though he would perhaps never stop being nervous around _her._ His friend, his inspiration—his _love._

Gently, he reached up, knocked on the door with his Spoken hand. “Ma— _Warrior?”_ He corrected himself as quick as he could. “I heard from the others, are you all right?”

Silence.

He waited another moment, then another, hand frozen on the smooth wood. Perhaps she had slipped out; gone somewhere? But the master of the Pendants had said no such thing—could she even slip out unnoticed? She was becoming quite a sensation here in the Crystarium, with so many of his people asking about his “unusual friend,” (The Exarch was beginning to suspect some of them were aware of his… _fondness_ for her, but no one had been bold enough to ask directly). Another twist of fear gripped his heart—what if she needed help? What if she was in pain right now, and could not answer the door? Ryne made it sound like the pain was bad, but it came and went? What if it came back—and had not yet passed? What if—

The Exarch knocked again. “Warrior, please, if you are in there, I need—Please let me know you are all right!”

Silence, again.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, that fear gripping tighter, like a vice around his still-Spoken heart. Taking the key he kept hidden on his belt, a copy of her room key that the master of the Pendants had secretly made for him even before she had appeared on this star, he thrust it in the lock and turned. “I’m coming in,” he said, with little warning. He had to _know_ she was all right, had to _see—_

But as he burst into the room, she wasn’t there—wasn’t on her knees, suffering or crying out. In fact, the room was quiet, dark, nearly empty…except for a form on the bed in the corner, curled up under the sheets.

The Exarch let out a long sigh, his ears lowering under his hood. Of course. She was tired, so she went to sleep. Now that nervousness in his gut was replaced with embarrassment—how could he have thought that she was so weak? That she needed someone—needed _him?_ He was truly a selfish creature, selfish enough to think that…

He turned on his heel, ready to head back and hope no one every spoke of this folly, that she _never_ found out he burst into _her private chambers_ afraid for her well being…And yet, he froze before he could bring himself to the door.

Maybe he should just…check? To make sure she was all right? Just—just for a moment. Surely that would be proper…it was what friends should do?

Perhaps, in time, he could even convince himself of this.

Slowly, trying his damnest not to wake her, the Exarch made his way across the room, robes fluttering in the soft breeze from the open window. During her time in the first, she had barely made these rooms her own, just a bag of supplies tossed in a corner, a coat draped over a chair—he knew Mara traveled light, did not have much to call her own, especially after he dragged her across the Rift to a whole new shard; she always seemed to have trouble settling down, calling a place _her own._ Perhaps that was due to her Steppe upbringing, though perhaps…

Perhaps it was because she never _truly_ felt at home.

Still, the room carried her scent, and it was as strong as ever; old parchment, jasmine flowers, and a fragrant, Eastern spice. Even in the lonely years on the First, he never forgot that scent. That scent that awoke something, something that had lay dormant for well over a hundred years the moment he saw her again—her scent swirled around him, and it was like those hundred years had never happened. For a brief moment, they were back in Mor Dhona, and he was just an ambitious Allagan scholar, and she was his _everything_.

The Exarch knelt next to the bed, careful not to wake her. She seemed to sleep peacefully, not a hint of pain or discomfort on her face. She looked…at ease. Calm, with not the worries of two worlds on her shoulders.

The Crystal Exarch wished she could always look that way. She didn’t deserve the heavy burden that fate had heaped on her. If he could, he would take it from her in an instant—shield her from the darkness of the world. _If you wanted, I would lock you away, safe, protected—keep you all to myself. But you’d never want that, would you? You want to be free; want to protect those that matter to you._

Slowly, gently, the Exarch reached out a hand, brushed the dark bangs from her eyes. She was warm—almost like a fever, running hot. That would be the light, as it burned and imprinted on her soul. _I’m sorry, but don’t worry…in the end, you will suffer no more; I shall take that suffering from you._

_I will pay for my wrongs, and in exchange, grant you life._

She moved a little in her sleep—the Exarch froze, his hand ilms above her face. But she only settled back down, her lips softly moving, as if to say something—a name for someone who wasn’t there.

He should really leave now, before he disturbed her further—before she woke up and found him here. This was already pushing the limit of what he could do, what he had promised to himself. No matter what his traitorous heart felt, he was but a stranger to her, a stranger forced to hide his face and cloak himself in lies.

She shuffled under the blankets once more, eyelids fluttering in (he hoped) a peaceful dream. And then she said it, so soft that his ears had to perk up to hear it—

_“Raha…”_

His breath hitched in his throat—eyes wide, lips parted. His heart ached; tears threatened to spill from his eyes. No, she was asleep, and he had been too careful—she couldn’t possibly know, but—

He wished he could throw off the cowl, hold her close, promise her it would be all right; that he would take care of her, _love_ her, as he once did. Promise her that no matter the cost, _he_ would save her. He wanted to pull her into his arms, and shout that he was _here_ , he had _returned_ , and he had missed her for so, so long. Kiss her under the stars as he once had until she smiled for him, laughed for him as she hadn’t in years—

But wishes and dreams would not get him anywhere; would not grant his deepest desire.

A lock of hair fell in front of her face, fluttering with every breath. Raha pushed it back, behind her horn as he once had, his fingers trailing down to cup her cheek. He leaned forward, brushing his lips against her forehead. Her skin burned beneath them, but he felt her settle back; calmed, a smile on her face as if, somehow, she knew.

 _Sleep well, Mara,_ Raha thought, standing up, smoothing his robes.

_I shall save you, my love. I swear it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to see more great ffxiv fic, join our [bookclub](https://discord.gg/enabling-debauched-xivfic)!


	3. Top of Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mara and G'raha return to the place where they first met.

“It’s…just the same as I remember,” Raha breathed, looking out on the scarred, crystalized landscape of Mor Dhona. The gloom still settled overhead, the Crystal Tower still sparkling in the distance. “When I first came down from the tower, I thought…” He glanced aside for a moment, looking at Mara. “I could’ve believed it had only been hours, not years. Mor Dhona hasn’t changed at all.”

Mara smiled back at him as they stood on the crystallized bluff. “Has done enough changing for several lifetimes, I think,” she said, with a small smirk. “It is us who have changed.”

He nodded, glancing at her with a little smile. “For the better, I hope?”

“Oh, I don’t know…” she said, laughing. He gave her a faux-scandalized look, before she took his hand in hers. For the time being, there was nowhere to be, nothing to fight, so between them was all laughter and smiles, all happiness as they navigated this new relationship together.

They sat down on the bluff, backs to the Crystal Tower, that part of their lives behind them now, turning toward Silvertear Lake, and the Keeper in the distance. “I never asked,” Raha began, glancing over at the small cluster of tents across the way; the only remaining attachment of the Sons of Saint Coinach in Mor Dhoma. “Did my letters ever get sent? I suppose I should write a new one to my mother now, apologizing for hurting her, back then.”

Mara turned to him, looking in curiosity. “Letters?”

Raha nodded, “The night before…” He paused; he did not need to explain further. “I spent some time writing some farewell letters. One to Krile, one to my mother. I felt I had to explain to them the why of it…for all the good it would do. I figured someone would have to pack my tent eventually so…”

Mara frowned, trying to remember. “I think Cid mentioned it? I am not sure…Days after were…” To be honest, the days afterwards had seemed like a blur; a hazy memory of despair and sorrow. Trying to collect any one moment, any singular thought was like trying to look through frosted glass; it all was entwined with the singular knowledge that G’raha was _gone_ , he had left her alone and she felt as if her life, her happiness had ended. She did recall bits and pieces; that horrible moment the heavy gold doors slammed shut, cleaving her heart in two; being dragged away from the tower by Biggs—being deposited in her tent. The grief, the agony—the _rage._ Heavy tears and heavy sobs under a blanket of mourning for that which she had lost. And then when the tears faltered, somehow she managed to pack up her tent, and retreat back to the Rising Stones unseen.

Afterward, she had kept to herself for a while. Perhaps Minfilia had seen something with the echo, or someone had dropped a line to the other Scions; she was not called upon until she was needed, for Ishgard called for the aid of the Warrior to help track down the Heretic leader Iceheart. By then her feelings were numb, and she locked them away in a chest deep inside her heart so she could go forward with her duty.

Raha’s fingers tightened on hers, his thumb gently caressing her hand. “That night, I wrote you a letter too, you know.”

Mara turned back to him, eyes widening. “You did?”

He nodded, “Yes, but I couldn’t…it was too much. I burned it before I went into the tower.”

“Why?”

He turned back to her, his ruby gaze meeting her own violet one. “Because I thought…I thought if I told you how I felt you might not be able to…be able to recover. To move on. I hoped—it was my dearest wish that you would forget me, eventually. Forget me and go on to live your life with someone else. I didn’t want you hanging on to me, not when I knew we would never see each other again.”

Mara gave him a sad smile. “I did try, you know…to forget you, to hate you—I tried so hard—”

“Oh, _I_ know,” Raha laughed, crimson eyes sparkling. “You had some words for me after we returned from the Tempest, I recall.”

Mara stuck out her lip in a pout. “Well…how was I to know? You tried to leave me, _again_ , kissed me right before doing it, _again_ , lied to me, made me feel a fool—how did you _expect_ me to react?”

Raha’s ears lowered, slightly. “I did explain in the end.”

“In the end,” she agreed, chiding. “But…it was hard two years, Raha. I tried and I tried to forget you but I could not…I went to other side of the world, and still I could not forget. And then I was in whole new place, that horrible tower staring down once again, and even when you hid your face and name…though I did not truly know it, all I could see was _you._ ” Sighing, she closed her eyes, shaking her head. “I should’ve known that I could not escape it; for me, it was only ever you.”

Gently, his fingers caressed her cheek, turning her back to him. “I would not take back what happened between us at Silvertear Lake; if I did, I would not have been able to save you. Despite everything, all the pain, the sorrow I put you through, I cannot take it back; but I can promise you this. For as long as you’ll have me, as long as you’ll allow it—I want to stay by your side.”

She reached up, closed her hand warm over his. “I would not have it any other way.”

They stayed like that, all smiles and gentle touches, for a moment, before the sun slipped behind the Mor Dhona gloom, alerting them to the time passed. Dropping his hand, flustered, Raha said, “We should…we should get back soon. It’s been a while and before they send someone after us…” He muttered, glancing back at Revenant’s Toll.

Yes, Mara definitely did not want any Scions to come and catch them at this moment, not when they had so much Scion business to attend to. “Before we go back,” she said, looking down toward Silvertear Lake. “Can we go…” her gaze drifted down to the lakeshore, where they had stood one night, years ago, under the stars when everything had seemed so simple. “Just…for a moment?”

Raha’s smile was like the sun his people worshipped as he realized where she meant. “Of course.”

As they approached the very same spot they stood that night, Mara wondered if perhaps, Raha would gift her with a kiss like he had back then. He hadn’t been particularly shy about kissing her the day she woke him up in the Tower, but since then, out in the harsh light of day, he seemed to have backed off on the open displays of affection. Perhaps it was embarrassment, knowing anyone could stumble on them and catch them in the act?

Well, if he wasn’t going to initiate it, then she was definitely going to…

Instead of immediately taking her into his arms and kissing her senseless , Raha instead gazed out at the lake. “You know, I always thought of that the Keeper of the Lake was watching over us, despite being ‘dead.’ I suppose he was in a way; according to the Ironworks’ reports, he rose again to help defeat Omega in the end.”

Mara nodded. “Yes, though he suffered a blow and returned to slumber.”

Raha shook his head, chuckling. “Seems to be a theme for him, isn’t it? For an all-powerful father of dragons, he certainly does sleep much.”

**_“Thou should take care of thine words, little man. Thou knows’t nothing of the creature thy mocks.”_ **

In a flash of light, Midgardsormr himself (in his dragonet form) appeared mere ilms from Raha’s face, causing the Miqo’te to yelp in surprise, stumbling back to land on the hard ground. Mara laughed, near leaning over in a fit of giggles as the Father of Dragons turned to her, indigent. “I thought you were sleeping?” asked Mara, when the dragon gave her a huff.

**_“Indeed; Mine power is all but spent. But it does not mean I can’st hear when some fragile creature thinks to treat me to scorn. What is this mortal that thinks to deride me thus?”_ **

Mara laughed again, gesturing Midgardsormr to Raha, still sprawled on the ground. “Midgardsormr, G’raha Tia of Students of Baldesion.”

 ** _“Hmph.”_ **Midgardsormr looked him over as the Miqo’te flinched under the gaze of something so powerful. **_“I sense the blood of Allag in thou, Mortal. The Allagans were powerful, for a time…though their empire fell like all the rest. Take care to learn of their failures.”_**

Mara sighed, shaking her head. “If you’ve come to tease him, you’re done enough. Leave him alone.”

The dragonet form of Midgardsormr floated up near her face, looking at her indigently. _“ **Teach thy paramour respect and I won’t have to,”**_ he grumbled. **_“We dragons live long, and do not forget a slight.”_**

“I doubt we’ll be around next time you wake, so no worries of that,” Mara muttered. “Now, go back to sleep before you see how disrespectful _I_ can be.”

Midgardsormr gave a heavy sigh, **_“Mortals…”_** Though he said it with a bit of whimsy, as if amused. “ ** _Fare thee well, Warrior of Light.”_** Another small flash of light and the dragonet was gone, the aether in the air seeming lighter at his absence.

Raha sat up, scratching the back of his neck, still looking a bit frazzled. “Well that was…Count Edmont didn’t mention _that_ in his memoirs.”

Chuckling, Mara knelt down beside him. “Maybe I should take you to Hraesvelgr next. He is more friendly…though you have to watch out for Moogles.”

Shaking his head, Raha laughed, “I didn’t imagine being threatened by a millennia-old Father of Dragons was going to happen today…I suppose I shall have to get used to such things, traveling with the Warrior of Light and all.”

Taking his face in her hands, Mara smiled at him, her love. “You would not have it any other way,” she said, reaching up to plant a kiss on top his crimson head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to see more great ffxiv fic, join our [bookclub](https://discord.gg/enabling-debauched-xivfic)!


	4. Nose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now back on the Source, G'raha needs to practice his magic if he wants to stand beside her in combat.

With the training dummy behind the Rising Stones in his sights, G’raha readied himself. He could feel the aether swirling within him; the power bubbling beneath the surface. The push and the pull of that power, astral to umbral, umbral to astral. Thaumaturgy required concentration, it required balance; to unlock enormous power, one must straddle the line between those two forces, yielding but always able to pull it back, back unto the other force. He had played with this power before on the First, when he had all the Tower’s aether and might at his disposal. Now though, he would have to rely on his own strength, his own power—and that force was much weakened compared to what he was used to.

He started out slow, casting a blizzard, then another. Keeping the forces at bay. Growing bolder, he summoned a simple spell of fire that broke above the dummy, wreathing it in flame.

So far, so good.

Growing bolder, he called upon a power he had perfected in the First—the triple cast. Fire, fire, then another. His aether was not boundless, he could feel his power waning, but not yet, not yet—

Summoning all his strength, G’raha called upon all the astral power he could muster, creating the biggest explosion of fire he could—a power he had used readily, and often in the First—a power he had used to protect _her—_

He let it go and the dummy _exploded_ , shards of burlap and wood flying out, the shockwave knocking G’raha off his feet, onto the hard stone. He gasped as his palms hit the cobbles, his crystal staff clattering away.

Ears lowering, G’raha looked back up at the dummy, now a smoldering, charred mess. And when he sucked in a breath, steadied himself on his elbows he could feel it; his aether was all but spent.

 _Damn it!_ G’raha leaned his head back to the cool, hard stone with a frustrated growl.

He had known coming back to the Source meant he would have less power than he used to; he could no longer draw upon the wellspring of aether the Tower offered its caretaker. He would now have to rely upon his own aether reserves, his own power…and his own power _wasn’t good enough._

Pushing himself up, G’raha sat up, adjusting the mess that the explosion had made of his braid. He couldn’t come out of the gate wielding all the power he used back then. He would have to work up to it—have to practice night and day to build up his aether reserves, his battle stamina. To be able to protect himself—

To be able to protect _her._

He knew who she was; knew Hydaelyn’s blessing had rendered such a thought useless; silly, even. The Warrior of Light did not need him to protect her; Mara had been able to handle herself before Hydaelyn first reached out to her, first bequeathed her the Blessing of Light. Still, there was something distinctly feral, distinctly _male_ in the fervor he had to grow strong, _stronger_ ; the desire to claim, to cherish—to guard one’s mate with their own two hands.

He re-tied the hair tie around his braid, now neat, face reddening. It was a foolish thought; she definitely did not need him to protect her, and she was not his mate—

 _Not yet, anyway,_ that feral voice in the back of his mind said.

G’raha feebly tried to shove _those_ thoughts to the side. He hadn’t been back on the Source long; had only just felt well enough to start practicing his combat skills again. The long sleep in the Tower had done a number on him, rendering him weak and weary for the first few days. And despite his fatigue, there had been another, unforeseen complication…

It had been just after she awoke him, after he confessed his heart and pulled her into a passionate kiss that it had come up in the most fumbling, awkward way. And once the air was cleared, he could do naught but sit back, temper his desires and expectations down for the moment. His first thought upon awakening, with her arms around him and her lips feverishly on his, was to _find a bed, any_ _bed—_ but those hopes were quickly dashed. Despite what he wanted, despite what his instincts were screaming at him; to _claim,_ to _take_ , to _mate—_

The Warrior of Light was a virgin.

G’raha blushed even further, standing up to retrieve his staff. His thumb ran over the crystal in a mimic of the motion he used to do on his arm; he found it strangely soothing.

Since _that_ had been the truth of it, he resolved to hold himself back; take things slow, and let her dictate the pace. He would not push her too fast, would let _her_ decide when she was ready. And even if it was a bit frustrating ( _Gods,_ the way her scent wrapped around him, feeling her small body bracketed against his, her lips soft, her hands so gentle—) he resolved to deal with it.

Though that feral voice inside him, the nunh that waited beneath the surface, always whispering those carnal thoughts and desires…he was _roaring_ when G’raha realized he would be the one to take her virginity. No one else; only _him._

 _Mine!_ That feral voice gleefully howled before G’raha shoved it back again.

No, he would deal with these thoughts in a different way, a better way. If he could not mate her yet, he would prove himself to her with his battle prowess, in the ways of the nunhs of old. Thus, by showing her his need to protect her, to _serve_ her, were his desires tempered.

For now.

“Raha?”

His ears flicked backward, hearing her footsteps as she came outside the Rising Stones (And his real name, he _loved it_ when she said his name—) He turned back to look at her. She carried a tray in her hands, smiling at him softly as she came closer. “How is it coming—oh,” she stopped, staring at the smoking, ruined mess that was the training dummy.

G’raha laughed nervously, scratching the back of his neck. “I will need more practice, I think. I was so used to unleashing all the power of the Tower at once that I overdid it. Perhaps I could take a few tips from Y’sholta, if she’ll allow it.”

Mara chuckled, “Maybe, but I think she will be difficult teacher. She might work you into ground.”

“If I am to stand with the Scions in battle, I will need a rough taskmaster. I never practiced magic before…before the Tower,” he clarified, knuckles tensing on his staff. “I need to be ready for anything.”

Mara smiled up at him again. “Still, can you not take a break? Here…” She gestured down to the tray in her hands. “You must be hungry?”

G’raha stared down at the tray; sandwiches. She had made sandwiches. His heart rose a little at the loving, caring gesture. (And that little feral voice in his head just _had_ to remind him that in his culture, females often brought food to a new nunh to show their desire and supplication to him—to offer their consent.) “You…you made sandwiches,” he said, _carefully_.

Mara gestured over to the bench by the side of the training area, leading him to it. “You made them for me, once.” She paused, “Twice.”

“I did,” he smiled as they sat down, taking one. It was good, and just what he needed after exerting himself earlier. “I’m surprised you remembered the first time.” It had been two, almost three years for her, and well over a hundred years for him…back when they had first met, on the shores of Silvertear Lake, back when he had been a lonely scholar dazzled by the Warrior of Light…

“There was much I could not forget, Raha…even when I tried,” Mara said, blushing every so slightly. After a moment of quiet reflection, remembering on what was, she glanced back at the ruined dummy.

“I hope I don’t ruin too many more before I feel ready for battle,” he said, sheepishly. Here he was, trying not to be a burden on the Scions, a burden on _her_ and already he had destroyed one of their possessions.

“One of us has probably blown up dummy before,” Mara laughed idly, waving it off. “I am sure it will come in time, Raha.”

He swallowed, the hand resting in his lap contorting into a fist. “But how much time? There is still so much left to do. Garlemald won’t be tied up in a civil war forever, the Scions still have business to attend to. I need to be able to hold my own, to carry my own weight—I need to be able to stand _beside_ them, _beside_ you—”

She shook her head, her dark blue ponytail waving from side to side, _“Raha—”_

He cut her off, “No, it’s not…I know you think I am overreacting, but it’s not…” He ran his other hand through his bangs, trying to get the words out. “I don’t want to seem like I am relying on everybody else. I want to walk with them as an equal. If I can’t even fight alongside them then how can I prove myself? How can I…”

_How can I be worthy of you?_

Sighing, Mara traced his cheeks with her fingertips, pulling him closer, forehead-to-forehead. G’raha flushed up instantly, feeling his face go as red as his hair. “M-Mara!” He stammered. They were outside the Rising Stones, anyone could walk outside and see—and _she_ was the one who insisted on keeping their relationship quiet, at least for a while. “This is…”

But she didn’t seem to care, not at the moment. “I saw what you did in the First—we _all_ saw. Raha you are…you are strongest person I know. With magic, with planning—you saved two worlds. You saved _me._ I already know your strength. And they do, too.”

He looked away from her amethyst eyes, feeling himself sear under her loving gaze. He felt as if he didn’t deserve her praise; the Tower had done most of the work back in the First when it came to his combat prowess. And as for his inner strength, that came out with the resolve to save _her._ The will to carry on just to see her again, to see her smile; to hear her laugh. All that strength was only given because of _her._

Perhaps…perhaps they had relied on each other for their own strength. “I…I still will need time to learn how to fight in this body. It…there is a learning curve, it seems.”

Mara only laughed, that beautiful, _beautiful_ sound he resolved to hear every day. “Well then,” she said, leaning closer. “I will have to buy more dummies for every one you destroy.” Her bangs brushed against his as she came closer, placing a soft kiss on his nose with a smile.

His ears flicked upward in surprise. “And—and how am I to repay you for it?”

“I suppose you can always make me sandwiches in return,” she chuckled.

“If…if that is what you want.”

Mara nodded, her thumbs caressing his cheeks again, looking at him with such fondness—such _love._

For once, the nunh in his head was silent, content to sit back and enjoy it as G’raha sighed. Foreheads still touching, his hand covered her own, savoring the warmth, and he struck up a soft, rumbling purr.

Perhaps, for now, when it came to fighting, he was not her equal. But she would always wait for him to catch up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to see more great ffxiv fic, join our [bookclub](https://discord.gg/enabling-debauched-xivfic)!


	5. Eyelids

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's nothing like waking up next to your love...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, this is where the spiciness starts...This chapter itself is rated M. 
> 
> cw: discussed sexual content

The dim, dawn light filtered into the tent, the pinkish sun rising slowly on the horizon. In the tent, in their own little world, Raha sighed as he awoke; lashes fluttering as he opened his ruby eyes, his mind hazy, disoriented.

He felt a warm body nestled close to his under the bedroll blanket; long hair fluttering on his breath. His tail curled, wrapped lazily around the small, soft body next to him. A scent swirled around him; old parchment, jasmine flowers, and a soft eastern spice…but now the scent was mixed lovingly with his own.

Smiling in contentment, in satisfied bliss, Raha opened his eyes, to see Mara, still in slumber, nestled up next to him, her face mere ilms from his. She looked calm in sleep, peaceful—relaxed. Her long hair was down from the usual ponytail, mussed and fanned out across their shared pillow. One of her hands reached out to his face, as if she was touching him as she fell asleep—as if she was unable to believe this was real; _he_ was real.

He too, could’ve thought this was a vision of his own making. Their own little bedroll, own little tent; own little world. Outside the tent, in the harsh light of day, they were the Warrior of Light and a Scion of the Seventh Dawn…but inside, under the cloak of night, they were just Raha and Mara, and here she was his inspiration—his _everything…_

Draping his arm around her waist, his fingers tracing soft patterns on her bare back, Raha drew her closer, closing his eyes as he nestled his nose near the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply of her scent— _their_ scent.

Here, she was his _lover._

Since he had returned to the Source, one of the first thing he told her was _“I want to stay by your side, as long as you’ll allow me.”_ He had barely left her side, as they traveled across Eorzea and now to Othard, to scope out the mysterious towers that were appearing even across the sea. It was liberating, being beside her, seeing new, exotic lands, exploring the world in a way he had always dreamed of. An adventure, with a hero by his side—he had wanted nothing more his entire life.

One of the perks of this little adventure was it also gave them time to explore _themselves_ as well.

Raha had never been a prude with this sort of thing; he had loved her, had dreamed of her for so long—he had imagined if the words he wished her to say ever fell from her lips, they would soon after be followed with a consummation of all that wanting, that longing. He had spilled in his hand to thoughts of her in Mor Dhona, and even in the dim light of the Ocular as the Crystal Exarch, cloaked in shadow and shame. Her scent had filled his fantasies, and every little smile, every cheerful laugh just spurred him on; that feral desire to _mate_ and _claim_ —to give her pleasure and prove his feelings with his body.

But he hadn’t realized until the day she awoke him in the tower, when her frantic kisses were passionate but not practiced, her touch needy but hesitant. Before he succumbed to that feral voice, before he pushed it too far, he had to ask, had to know—and so he had sputteringly asked her point blank (in the gentlest way he could phrase it)— _“Forgive me for asking, this is none of my business but…have you ever kissed anyone else?”_

She had looked up at him, blushing, but smiling, still. “ _No one,”_ she had said, the words jolting him through and through. _“For me it has always been you…only you.”_

He had to mentally take a _giant_ step back, dashing all of his plans for the evening—and the rest of the evenings that followed. Things would have to proceed _slowly_ , at her pace.

And slowly they did _._ Agonizingly slowly sometimes…not to mention she was reluctant to make their relationship public, for now. Gentle caresses, quick kisses were all he could hope for in the beginning, small snatched moments in the dark corridors of the Rising Stones. But they eventually had more time to themselves. Mara had managed to sneak him off to the Moonfire Faire when it came around, and they had a lovely evening of dancing, laughing, kissing under the stars as fireworks soared overhead. But it took weeks for her to be comfortable with roaming hands, sizzling touches.

The first time she asked him to go down on her, he could’ve died from happiness right there. He wanted nothing more than to give her pleasure, make her feel good. She was divine, like a goddess, and he her loyal supplicant. Face flushed, drowning in pleasure, she would cry out his name as her whole body shook—and he could almost come himself watching it, watching _her_ , knowing that he brought her to those heights. Afterwards, she asked him permission to teach her how to do the same—to give _him_ pleasure. And he had never been happier to teach; to show her what he liked.

For a while, he was content with that, both of them coming undone by mouth or hands. Their trip to Othard had afforded ample time, plenty of nights alone for such exploration. But she never asked to take it further, and while he kept his promise to himself to go at her pace…the feral voice in the back of his mind egged him on, desperate to cross the last, final line she had not asked for…

Until last night.

 _Gods_ , it had felt incredible, and it was so worth it after all that waiting—he knew exactly where to touch her, what spots would amplify her pleasure, and sooner than he expected she was crying out, nails digging into his back, whole body quivering and shuddering around him—what could he do, but follow her over the edge as well?

While the savage nunh in his mind was sated for the moment, he still hadn’t gone _all_ the way. He had not yet marked her as _his_ , had not truly mated her in the ways of his people. There was a certain ritualistic element to proper mating, and some ancient Miqo’te magic seemed to lie within the practice. As long as mates were together, the mark would not fade; scents would stay mixed. And any other Miqo’te nearby would know that they were _taken_ , _claimed_ by the other…He had not yet asked, and he wanted to make sure she was comfortable in _this_ before he offered.

Still, he couldn’t help the feral glee that the little nunh inside him had at the thought—his cock gave a feeble twitch as he imagined mating her, _marking_ her—taking her from behind, biting down on the juncture between her neck and shoulder (though he would have to mind the scales), tasing blood on his tongue as he released deep inside her—No, _that_ would have to wait a little while…

Hopefully _only_ a little while.

The sun was rising higher, golden beams of light filtering down through the gap in the tent. They would have to get up soon, for they had a long day of riding ahead—the Azim Steppe was vast, and Mara had said she wanted to try to reach Mol Iloh by afternoon.

Leaning forward, Raha placed gentle, featherlight kisses on her eyelids. Though loath as he was to wake her—he wished they could stay here, in the world of their tent, passion-drunk and happy, they had things they had to do.

Duty called on the horizon.

“Time to wake up, my love,” he said softly, _gently_ , brushing a lock of her dark, midnight-blue hair behind her horn.

“Mmm,” she said, slowly opening her eyes. Upon seeing him, a starry smile sprouted on her face. “Good morning, Raha.”

“Good morning, Mara,” he replied, as she nuzzled closer to him. He wrapped an arm around her and held her close—savoring the moment, short as it was. He wished he could just lie here, bask in the afterglow, but a thought nagged at him—he knew he was going to ruin the moment, he _knew,_ but he had to ask. “Are you…uh, feeling all right?”

“Uh…” Her cheeks turned the prettiest shade of pink. “I feel…sore? A little.”

His ears lowered, falling back, “Sorry I didn’t…I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He had thought he prepared her enough, had gone slow enough…perhaps not.

She smiled, shaking her head. “No, it is not—not a hurt like that. Just a little sore. A _good_ sore. If I could, I would wake like this every day.”

Raha gave a soft chuckle, gently tapping her nose. “I think that may get a bit exhausting, Love.”

“Hmph, I know you better than that,” she snickered, casting her violet eyes downward to where he was starting to get hard again. “Insatiable.”

“Only for you,” he murmured, pulling her into a soft kiss—not one of the searing, passionate kisses of night, though not _entirely_ chaste either.

But as the kiss deepened, as he pulled her against his bare chest, starting to think maybe they could delay their departure for a little bit, she gently pushed him away. “Enough,” she smirked, sitting up in the bedroll. “You would keep me here all day.”

He leaned up on his elbows, savoring the view as the blanket fell to around her waist, exposing the many marks and lovebites all over her breasts. “Not _all_ day…just another hour, maybe?”

She laughed again, shaking her head. “We promised to be at Mol Iloh by afternoon, did we not? And it is beautiful day—I would hate to waste it here…” She peeked open the tent flap, scattered sunbeams filtering in.

Raha was about to say something, maybe that she was more beautiful than the sun, but he was struck dumb by the image before him; she looked like a goddess, bathed in ethereal light. For she was _his_ goddess, and, unworthy though he was, she blessed him with more than he ever thought imaginable. He reached out, traced the skin of her bare back with a single knuckle; needing to feel that this was _real_ , that it wasn’t a _dream—_

He never thought he could love so deeply, and be loved like that in return.

When she turned back to him, she gasped in alarm. “Raha? What’s wrong?”

He blinked, feeling wetness in the corner of his eyes. The emotion had hit him, and it had been so powerful he could not contain it any longer. “Oh, I…” his voice wavered; watery. “I just…” he struggled to find the right words. “In the First, I waited a hundred years just to see you again…I would’ve waited hundreds more if I knew _this_ was how it would end.”

Her soft hand covered his; she drew his hand towards her, placing a soft kiss on his knuckles; his palm. “I did not wait as long as you,” she whispered, gently. “But I think…even when you were not there, even when I tried moving on…I could not forget you. Maybe…maybe I was waiting for you too. I love you, Raha,” her amethyst eyes sparkling with emotion. “I think I always loved you, even when I did not know it.”

Sitting up, in one fluid movement Raha pulled her to him, she gave a squeak before he lowered his mouth to hers. And she moaned in his mouth, all that longing, all that waiting—now satisfied. The sparks she had nudged away before were back, and it was his turn to squeak in surprise as she yanked him back down to the bedroll—back on top of her.

No matter how long he waited, how long they _both_ waited…some things were worth waiting for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to see more great ffxiv fic, join our [bookclub](https://discord.gg/enabling-debauched-xivfic)!


	6. Lips

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mara and Raha finally get some time to themselves at the Moonfire Faire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also known as The Beach Episode. 
> 
> These chapters aren't linear, btw. This is the Moonfire Faire that was mentioned in the previous chapter.

Ever since they had both come down from the Crystal Tower, since Raha had pulled her close and whispered those words she had desperately wanted to hear, Mara had never felt happier. Raha was _here_ , he was _whole,_ and he loved her. He _loved_ her! It was as if she had dreamed it, except the dream was _real._ Things were almost perfect, except…

She and Raha _barely_ got any time to themselves!

Since that passionate kiss the day in the tower, there had hardly been any more; Raha had been rather hands-off since. A few kisses in the hallway, a couple snatched moments in the Rising Stones kitchen, but other than that, all they had were a few soft touches, warm smiles.

While Mara enjoyed this, _immensely_ , she was starting to get that itch again, just to get him alone. To not have to hide their feelings for each other, to be able to touch and kiss and hold without worry.

She wasn’t quite ready to make their relationship public. They needed time; the Scions had _just_ returned from the First, after all. And maybe it was for a bit of a selfish reason; Mara wasn’t ready to be open about it to her friends…not yet. For now, she wanted him all to herself.

It was starting to get incredibly frustrating, though.

She had been days without Raha’s strong arms around her when the opportunity finally presented itself—the Scions were splitting up to check in with the Alliance leaders. Thancred to Ul’dah, Y’shtola to Limsa Lominsa, and this time, Alphinaud and Alisaie would go to Gridania and Urianger to Ishgard. “Would’st thou wish to accompany me? Thou hast good relations with Ishgard.” Urianger had offered.

Upon realizing that, for _once_ , the Rising Stones would be empty, Mara had never refused him faster.

Even better, when she realized the date of their departure, she started forming a plan. The Scions would be gone for a day or two; plenty of time to _finally_ get Raha alone.

It started right after the last Scion left on their mission; G’raha was sitting around the now empty table, eating some leftover stew when Mara came to him, all smiles. “Raha,” she said, voice soft as velvet. “Did you notice? With Krile and Tataru leaving tomorrow—something about Estinien—we have time to ourselves.” She leaned over the table, grinning.

Raha missed his mouth entirely, dropping the spoon back into the bowl with a clatter. “Um…yes. I think…yes.”

Oh, he _did_ notice.

“Hmm, what should we do with time to ourselves, I wonder?”

His face was near as red as his hair. “Well, I…that is…to say…whatever—whatever you wish,” he muttered quickly, squirming in the chair, his tail curling with interest.

He was too fun to tease. “I am sure _you_ have ideas, Raha.”

“I…” he stopped, gulping, tugging on his shirt collar. Scooting closer to the table, he crossed his legs quickly. “What do you have in mind?”

“I have something, yes…” She smiled, drawing it out. “Do you have swim trunks, Raha?”

He blinked, his tail no longer thrashing. “…Come again?” Did he sound…disappointed? Perhaps he had something else in mind?

“Tell me, Raha, have you ever been to Moonfire Faire?”

_~~~~~_

Raha had nearly spit out his coffee the next morning as she met him in the kitchen, ready to go. Her hair was down for once, the midnight blue tendrils cascading to her waist. She wore a black swim top she picked up last year, cut low and tied into a bow just below her breasts, and a dark blue swim wrap-skirt over the bottoms. With sandals and sunglasses down, she was ready to go.

“You look…” he muttered, blushing, keeping his eyes _away_ from her bare stomach. She could only laugh. For his part, he looked good as well; open shirt over dark blue swim trunks, the slice of bare, muscled chest _delicious_ first thing in the morning.

“We are going to Costa del Sol, aren’t we?” smirked Mara, pushing up her sunglasses to gaze up at him. “Must fit in with the crowd.”

He ran a hand through his hair, face still flushed. “Yes, but…aren’t you worried they’ll recognize the Warrior of Light? Xaela are…I was under the impression that they’re quite rare in Eorzea.”

“They are, but do not worry.” She winked at him, “Watch and learn, Raha.”

  
_~~~~~_

Costa del Sol was _packed_ , the beach filled with tourists clad in various degrees of scantily-clad swimwear. The beach closest to the bar was filled with towels and umbrellas and cabanas, so Mara dragged Raha over, farther down on the beach, where they could place their blankets and umbrellas closer to the shore.

“You seem to know your way around,” he said, unpacking their bag and picnic basket.

Mara smiled, “Before joining Scions, I studied in Limsa Lominsa. Moonfire Faire is biggest event of the year; mayhap bigger than Starlight.”

Raha chuckled, looking out at the packed beach; the partygoers drinking and dancing and laughing and enjoying the fine day. “I suppose so. Though I have never been before.”

“Really?” asked Mara, leaning back on the blanket, taking in the sun on her skin, her scales. “Never?”

Raha shrugged as he sat down next to her. “I Never had the time or the inclination. I was not…I was not sure I would enjoy myself.”

“Hmm,” Mara mused, undying the wrap around her waist. “Do you think you will enjoy yourself now?”

 _Oh_ , she spotted those red eyes roaming down her body as she stretched out under the sun. “I believe I might.”

Mara smirked, this was going to be _quite_ an enjoyable day.

The sun shone down on high as they ate their lunch on the beach, Raha brining them back drinks from the bar (and a plate of battered fish. It turned out it was true that Miqo’te liked _any_ kind of fish.) The fruity cocktails were heavenly in the heat of the day. Raha had a good time laughing as Mara played with the little drink umbrella (she had never seen one before) before she flicked it back at him. There little scuffle escalated to throwing sand at one another, and soon they were wading in the tide, Mara screeching as Raha threw her under the swells.

“You wait, Raha of G tribe,” she muttered, hair soaked and sticking to her skin. “You forget I have blessing of the Kojin. You do not want to play this game,” she threatened, steadying herself on her heels.

“Come and show me then,” he laughed, as she pounced on him. When he attempted to force her under again, she summoned a fraction of her power—the egi of water she had once used to defeat Ifrit—causing a giant wave to wash over him, his ears flattening as he was splashed back to the ground.

Popping her head back up after the wave hit, Mara looked around, her wet hair slapping back and forth. The beach shallows were still. “Raha?” Maybe she overdid it? “Raha!”

She stepped deeper into the tide, another step, another, looking frantically around until—

Two muscular arms shot out from beneath the waves, dragging her back down as she sputtered. After another struggle, she was slammed back onto the beach, the tide gently lapping around her face, as Raha loomed over her, braid soaked, but damp ears still wiggling in triumph. “You cheated,” he said, smirking as he pinned her down. “Still, I think I won.”

Mara’s eyes were drawn to his bare chest, the droplets of water rolling down muscular valleys, that light trail of red hair leading to the waistband of his swim trunks… “And what you going to do about it?” she purred.

His eyes darkened, _hungry_.

But before he could do anything, he glanced up—several Miqo’te women nearby were glaring in disgust, picking up their wet blankets and soaked clothes and moving farther away from the shore. “I think we went a little too far, Love,” said Raha, releasing her. Mara tried very hard not to let on how much she had enjoyed that—being pinned down, his eyes looking at her like he wanted to devour—

 _That_ was a look she was going to savor for a while.

Raha got them another round of drinks as Mara sat on their blanket, combing through her wet hair. There was a reason she usually kept it in a neat ponytail; it had already started to tangle, and she frowned as she worked through a particularly rough knot…

“You were right,” said Raha, taking a sip of his cocktail (still shirtless, to her enjoyment.) “Not one person has recognized you.”

Mara smiled, her hand pausing on the comb. “I discovered this soon after adventure in Ishgard,” she said, waving her hand vaguely. “People expect Warrior of Light to look a certain way— _act_ a certain way. Everyone knows she is serious, dresses in engineer fashions, wears hair in ponytail. Never smiles, never laughs—dedicates herself to saving of world. Who would think she would wear hair down, come in swimsuit to Moonfire Faire, enjoy herself? No one looks for me, so no one sees me.”

“Hmm,” Raha considered, setting his drink down. Taking out his hair tie, he started squeezing excess water out of his braid (he looked _stunning_ with his hair down.) “I guess I understand that. When I looked for information on the Warrior of Light, all I could find was information on your battles, your triumphs; there was scarcely little about the _woman_ behind the power—on that, I knew much more than your chroniclers did.”

Mara glanced down at the blanket, her hand pausing mid-comb. It was always difficult for her to imagine what he had gone through, in those hundred years without her, knowing the fate of two worlds rested on his shoulders. “Very few people see me as _me._ Warrior of Light, Warrior of Darkness, even khagan—no one ever looks beyond that to see _Mara._ ” She paused, smiling, “No one…except you.” (Well…and Haurchefant…but she didn’t need to tell Raha that.)

“I recall you saying something like that,” Raha smirked, as he retied his damp braid. “On a dark night walking home from a Revenant’s Toll tavern after one too many drinks…”

Mara pouted, tossed her wet comb at him as he laughed. “I am trying to have moment and you are making fun of me!”

“You are too fun to tease,” Raha chuckled, pulling on his loose shirt once more. “I had to get back at you for earlier.”

She pouted, tying her blue wrap around her waist once more. “I’ll push you back in water,” she muttered.

“I’ll pull you down right after me,” Raha grinned, scarlet eyes sparkling with mischief.

Before Mara could make good on her threat, she heard the sound of music picking up near the center of the beach. The sun was lowering on the horizon as the colored bomb-shaped paper lanterns were lit. “Oh, the dancing!” She smiled, grabbing Raha by the arm and pulling him up.

“Mara, Mara _wait!_ ” said Raha, stopping her before she could drag him to the square. “I don’t…” he paused, his previous mirth now gone. “I don’t know how to dance.”

But Mara only beamed. “I do not either. Let’s go!”

Before he could protest any longer, they were in the center of the dancers, fumbling along with the rhythm of the dance. Mara laughed as Raha tried to follow along, before giving up and pull her close, swaying to the music. At a faster song, Mara swayed her hips as he twirled her around, slowly figuring it out. Yet they were both evenly matched on that front—she tripped over her feet, he nearly dropped her as he tried to dip—at one point they stumbled so much they landed hard on the ground, in a pile of laughter. As the night went on, as the songs got slower, they were content to hold one another close, lean on each other, and sway softly to the music. 

A gorgeous pink sunset gave way to a dark, starry night, and at the end of the day, they sat on their blanket on the beach, watching the fireworks; a burst of bloom and color onto a dark canvas. There was a cheer every time a particularly spectacular explosion unfurled. Mara sat nestled back against Raha, his strong arms around her (to her delight), his chin resting atop her head. As he held her close, she could feel that soft rumble of contentment in his chest, the soft purr of his people.

The day had been nearly perfect, except…

Slowly turning, Mara leaned up, looking into his beautiful crimson eyes as he stared down at her with all that emotion—all that _love_. Reaching back up, she pulled on his neck, pulling him back down to her.

His face was ilms from hers when he sputtered, “Mara, wait…what if…people see…?”

After the whole day, _now_ he was worried about secrecy? “Then let them see,” Mara whispered, her eyes sliding shut as she captured his lips with her own.

His hesitation was gone, his hand tangled in her hair, another around her waist, pulling her closer—her body flush against his, she could feel her rabbiting heartbeat in her chest, feel _his_ heart pulse beneath her palm. There were more cheers as another explosion ripped through the air, but neither of them cared; the fireworks were within.

 _Now_ , the day was perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to see more great ffxiv fic, join our [bookclub](https://discord.gg/enabling-debauched-xivfic)!


	7. Neck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raha has some self-esteem issues. Mara decides to cheer him up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is basically all smut. You have been warned. 
> 
> cw: sexual content.

“So all agreed?” said Y’shtola, a finger to her linkpearl. The Scions around the room all nodded in agreement. “Good, thank you for the update, Thancred,” she said, turning off the connection.

As the Scions chatted amongst themselves about their new assignments, the updates Thancred brought from undercover in Garlemald, Mara turned to look at Raha. He had been silent the whole meeting and now he just seemed…lost. Crimson eyes downcast, ears and tail drooped.

“Something wrong?” Mara asked, coming up to him. Raha blinked, looked back down at her, as if he hadn’t noticed her at all.

“It’s nothing,” he said, but his look was still far away, still lost in thought.

Mara didn’t buy that for a second.

As the Scions parted, Raha went back to his own room at the end of the hall. Mara followed him, placed her hand on the door so he couldn’t shut her out. “Tell me what is bothering you,” She said, leaning on the door.

“Nothing!” he snapped, scratching the back of his neck. “It really is nothing.”

Frowning, Mara stepped in his room, gently shutting the door after her. “Raha,” she sighed, shaking her head. “You think I do not know my own _mate_ better than that?”

He couldn’t meet her eyes, but he didn’t deny it either. Stepping closer to him, they walked backward until Raha sat on bed. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, tense. Her hands on his shoulders, Mara leaned down, pressed her forehead to his. “Tell me what is wrong.”

“It’s just…” he began, then paused. “Everything that’s being put into motion…all the plans we have—they will only succeed because everyone brings something to it. The Scions had trained for years, practiced their arts for years for this. And yet, what do I bring?”

“You know so much of Allagan history—”

Raha gave a shaky, cruel laugh. “Allagan _history!_ Oh yes, that will help if we have to go to war with Garlemald. But what about combat? I still have trouble keeping up with everyone—I still have to stand in the back row, just in case my aether gives out!”

“You do not need to prove yourself, Raha,” said Mara, staring down. “Everyone knows what you’ve done—”

“But _is it enough?”_ said Raha, clenching his fist.

Mara could only stare in sadness as she looked at him, her friend, her _lover_ ; his whole life had always been a quest to _be enough._ No matter how many times she told him, his old worries, old self-deprecation came back. No amount of words could ever soothe those wounds fully; they would always return in those moments of weakness.

She would have to show him her thoughts instead.

Gently, brushing aside her long, swishing Isghardian skirts, Mara sat down in his lap; his crimson eyes widening, following her every move. “Raha,” she said, her fingertips gently tracing the Archeon tattoos on his neck. “Tell me, do those mean something?”

He froze, splotches of red creeping up his neck, his face? “Those…?”

“Tattoos,” she said, tracing the lines ever so gently.

“They…they mean I was accepted as a Sharlayan Archeon,” he said, breath hitching ever so slightly as her finger lightly traced the other side.

Well… _this_ was interesting.

Mara asked, “And is it easy to become Sharlayan Archeon?”

“N-no,” he said, his hands coming out to steady her on his hips. As she leaned in closer, her hips rolled ever so slightly—she heard that soft, nearly imperceptible groan.

“Then you have already proven yourself. Scions are Sharlayan Archeons as well, you know. You are the same.” Mara leaned in closer, her clothed breasts brushing up against his chest as she breathed softly right over one of his tattoos—she could _feel_ his heartbeat race against her chest. “You are scholar, just like them. On the same level.” Gently, she placed featherlight kisses up his neck.

“But—but it’s different levels and—” He was cut off as she flicked her tongue out, tracing the red lines of the tattoo along his neck. _“Gods…”_ He panted, his eyes fluttering shut, as she felt his hardness stir beneath her.

Leaning back a moment, Mara looked at her love; his face flushed as red as his hair, his eyes glassy; she wanted to see _more_ of that. Reaching down, in one swift movement, Mara pulled her top up over her head, she threw it on the ground in a heap. Raha’s eyes widened, focusing on her brassiere…and then to the deep bite mark at the junction of her neck and shoulder. _His_ mark. “Look at this,” said Mara, placing a hand over the mating mark. “Do you think I allow _anyone_ to mark me? I wanted _you_ , Raha. It does not matter what you think are worth— _I_ want no one else.”

He raised a shaking hand, placed it over hers. “Every day I can scarcely believe it,” he murmured, reaching up, brushing a lock of dark hair behind her horn. “That of everyone on this star, you would choose me. That you would _want_ me.”

Mara took his face in her hands. “Shall I show you how?” she whispered, lips widening to a flirtatious smirk.

Raha’s eyes deepened to a dark, blood red.

He crashed his mouth to hers, and she met his passion with the same spark; his muscled arms crushed her to him, as if to cleave them together and never let go. Mara’s hands traveled downward, divesting him of his scarf, pushing the red coat off his shoulders. As they parted for air, Raha panted out, “But, wait…” he said, gasping as she trailed kisses along his jaw. “We’re in the Rising Stones, the Scions…”

Mara shut him up with another searing kiss. At this point, the Scions were a non-issue; Krile had caught them embracing in the kitchen soon after the relationship had begun, Y’shtola had been able to smell the nature of their intimate relationship from the moment they returned from Othard. Thancred kept giving Raha knowing looks, Urianger secret smiles. Alisaie had pouted anytime they were in the room together; Tataru would giggle and blush whenever she saw them. In fact, the only Scion who _hadn’t_ seemed to have noticed was Alphinaud.

As she kissed down his neck, down those tattoos again, she came to the spot just at his neck and shoulder. “Funny,” she smirked. “You have marked me. If I could, would you want me to mark you?”

Her blunt teeth gently nipped, biting down on that spot with just a _little_ pressure—

Raha gave a choked gasp, his hips thrusting upward.

Mara gave a husky laugh, before placing her hands on his chest, pushing him backwards. She crawled up his body, sitting right down where he wanted her; she could feel him beneath her, straining and ready to go— _insatiable._ “Always so eager,” she said, smirking, her fingers tracing his cheek. “This time, let me take care of you, hmm?”

“By the Twelve,” he breathed, looking at her as if he couldn’t believe it was really happing. “Yes, _please._ ”

Oh, she was going to _enjoy_ this.

She drew his shirt over his head, enjoying the view of his well-sculpted bare chest; all those years as an archer had paid off. Normally she relished in the feel of those strong arms holding her, squeezing her to him…but not tonight. She pinned his arms down above his head, _slowly_ rocking her hips. He didn’t need much encouragement; he rocked back, the red flush growing down his chest, down to the light trail of red hair leading to his waistband.

Steady fingers moving quickly, Mara found his belt, the buckle clicking as she hastily removed it, tossing it aside, into the aether for all she cared. She was still mostly clothed as his pants were shoved down, his straining smalls the only thing left. Sitting back on her haunches, Mara’s slender finger traced his length through the cloth, earing her a deep, throaty moan.

“Need you,” he begged, as she cupped him, applying the lightest pressure.

Chuckling, Mara leaned forward, giving his clothed member the lightest squeeze. Placing those soft, suckling kisses on his throat once more, she whispered in his ear, “Say please.”

His fingers clenched above his head; seemingly fighting the urge to hold her, take her in his arms. Eyes fluttering shut, he begged, “ _Please.”_

Well, he _had_ asked so nicely.

She backed off him, loving the mewling whine he gave as she let go. His eyes glazed over, staring as she reached down, pulled her brassiere over her head. His dark eyes followed her fingers downward as she shucked her skirt off, throwing it onto the floor, his pupils narrowing at her smalls, already damp. With a grin, she slowly pulled them down her thighs, drawing it out as she stepped out with one leg, and then the other. His hands finally moved, frantically pulling off the last bit of cloth on him until they were both bare, his hands reaching for her. “ _Azeyma,_ please, I want—” he managed to choke out. “I want to touch you—”

Mara only shook her head, smiling, _loving_ the power she felt. “Not yet,” she said sweetly, easing him back down. He obeyed, hands back at his sides, fisting in the sheets. Settling over him, Mara gave him one last, deep kiss, teeth gnashing and tongues tasting and breaths caught in ecstasy—his hand tangled in her hair— _Naughty boy_ —but he let go as she sat back up over him. She watched him, savoring that look of awe, look of _love_ through heavy lashes as she took him in hand, lined him up with her slick entrance and slowly, _slowly_ sank down. They both let out soft gasps as he filled her, hilted himself inside. Mara panted, eyes fluttering shut at how full she felt, how _good_ she felt. “ _Nhaama_ ,” she breathed, placing her hands back on his chest to steady herself.

This was supposed to be about him, about making him feel better—feel _loved._ But he always felt so good, so _right_ within her, she wasn’t sure if she would be able to keep up the game much longer. Raha usually took charge when she felt herself faltering, knew just where to touch her, how to move in her to get her screaming and falling apart in his arms. This time, she wanted to be the one to make him come undone, make him writhe and cry out in pleasure…if only she’d be able to last.

She slowly inched up and slammed back down, already setting a fast, needy pace. Raha was moaning beneath her, hips meeting thrust for thrust, too lost to try and slow down. Sweat slicked her brow as she bent over, positioning herself to pull up farther, before taking him all in again. It felt so, so good, changing the angle to hit just _right_ , hearing Raha groan and gasp with every movement. She felt a mixture of pride and arousal knowing that _she_ was causing that, _she_ was making him lose himself in her. His eyes fluttered as he gasped out, “You are so…” he threw his head back as she thrust down once more, her insides clenching around him.

Her eyes clenched shut as it was starting to feel _too_ good—she could feel that liquid heat pooling in her lower belly, the coil tightening, threatening to snap. “Raha, I…” she gasped out, and then she felt his fingers on her sex, circling her clit as she picked up the pace. She didn’t even have it in her to reprimand him as the heat grew, the coil wound tighter and tighter. “So close…” Mara panted, unable to think—everything narrowed down to where they were joined, his fingers circling, teasing, the waves of pleasure rolling over. The heat was rising, threatening to spill over the brink—

Her head snapped back as she gasped, shuddered—insides fluttering as pleasure laced up her spine, the dam burst. She hovered on the cloud of pleasure, feeling herself being tumbled backwards. Raha’s lips crashing down on hers as he thrust fast, hard—she gasped, oversensitive as his hips stuttered, clenching his eyes shut and biting into her shoulder as he came, his hips giving a last, shallow thrust before falling still.

Panting, they lay there for a moment, basking in the afterglow. “You were supposed stay still,” Mara chided, arms wrapping around him all the same.

“Sorry,” he said, in a breathy chuckle, looking down at her, his sweaty crimson bangs brushing her dark blue ones. “Couldn’t help it…you are…felt so good.”

“Hmm,” she said, reaching up to cup his cheeks. “We will have to work on that next time.” Leaning up, she rubbed his cheek with her dark horn; the most intimate gesture between Au Ra. He was no Au Ra, but with the loving look in his eyes, he understood the significance all the same. “My Sharlayan Archeon,” she said, eyes sparkling with love.

His crimson eyes watered for a moment, overwhelmed. “Yours,” he choked out, as she pulled him into her arms. “Always yours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to see more great ffxiv fic, join our [bookclub](https://discord.gg/enabling-debauched-xivfic)!


	8. Thigh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the new Doma Palace, Raha wants to settle an argument...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has explicit sexual content.
> 
> cw: sexual content, jealousy.

“It’s not as big as Doma Castle,” Mara had said of Kienkan when they first arrived in the Doman Enclave, but Raha was entranced by its beauty all the same—dark, lacquered wood, polished stone floors, fine tapestries hanging down from the rafters. As he sat on the floor, awaiting the entrance of Lord Hien, he looked around and could scarcely believe he was _here_ , seeing all this exoticness with his own two eyes…that _she_ had brought him here.

Speaking of _her…_ Mara had, at first, been excited to visit Doma again during this trip of theirs to Othard. “It will be nice to see how they are rebuilding,” she said, telling Raha of how ruined the Doman enclave had been when she first set eyes upon it, and the spirit of the Domans towards rebuilding to a brighter future. How all, from the smallest child to the Lord of Doma himself, rose to the occasion, joining hands to build a better country out of the ashes of the old.

But as they had set foot towards the Kienkan, Mara became a little bit nervous. They needed to get word to Doma about Fandaniel, about the mysterious towers that had appeared all over the world, but as Lord Hien’s retainers waved them in, Mara said, “Why tell Hien himself? Surely others can do…”

As they sat on the floor of Kienkan, waiting for Lord Hien, Raha watched her, watched as she fidgeted, glancing around every which way.

Mara _never_ fidgeted.

Sooner than they thought Lord Hien arrived, his arrival causing Mara to perk up, eyes wide. “Welcome a Doma!” He said, smiling, in a _very_ heavy accent. Raha stared, surprised; Mara had said that Lord Hien didn’t speak a word of Eorzean.

“I did not realize you spoke Eorzean!” Mara gasped, eyes wide. “When did you learn?”

Lord Hien only shrugged, saying sheepishly, “That only it; very bad.” He then switched to Doman, saying something that made Mara’s cheeks turn the slightest shade of pink.

As Mara spoke to him in his language, Raha took a good look at this Lord of Doma, the man Mara had spent time adventuring alongside on her journey to liberate Ala Mhigo. Lord Hien was _tall_ (though, to be fair, compared to him, nearly everyone, save Mara, was taller than him.) He was well built, with defined muscles from years of fighting and training. He had an intricately-decorated katana at his side, but Raha knew that had to be no ceremonial weapon—this was a man that knew _how_ to use it, after years of fighting for his homeland.

Tall, strong, muscular build… _Hmm…_ Raha glanced over to Mara, who now spoke in an animated fashion in Doman, explaining the current Scion intelligence. Still, she blushed freely, looking anywhere but at the Lord of Doma as she explained.

“Oh!” she said, glancing toward Raha as if she just remembered he was there. “…G’raha Tia, Scions of the Seventh Dawn,” he caught amidst the Doman, seeing Lord Hien turn to him. The Lord of Doma gave him a bow, and Raha returned it best he could, but when he came back up, Hien had turned back to Mara.

That could be explained by the language barrier…maybe. Though by now, Raha was more interested in Mara’s reaction to it all.

_Interesting…_

Lord Hien had bid them stay the night and had given them rooms in the makeshift palace. “Is not much compared to Doma Castle, before,” explained Mara, as they walked through the narrow hallways. “But Hien says building Doma for people comes first.”

_‘Hien’ is it now?_

They had been given separate rooms (it wasn’t like Lord Hien knew of their relationship, though things might not have been as…complicated…if he did) but after he settled in, Raha wandered over to Mara’s room. She had already gotten ready for bed, was in her long nightshirt with her hair out of her usual ponytail. “Oh, Raha?” She perked up when she saw him. “Is everything all right?”

He stepped forward, knelt down on the tatami floor next to her, suddenly a bit nervous. Was he really going to ask this? It wasn’t any of his business but…

It picked at the back of his brain, like an itch that wouldn’t go away. He had to have the courage to ask _now_. “Did you and Lord Hien…” The words froze in his mouth.

It didn’t matter if words failed him; the effect was immediate. Her smile faded. “What?”

He swallowed, starting over. “Did you and Lord Hien ever…were you and him…I get the feeling that…” Damn it, he couldn’t bring himself to say it still.

But she knew what he meant. Glancing away, Mara said through clenched teeth. “I did not lie to you in Crystal Tower, if that is what you mean. There has been…no one else but you, Raha. _No one else.”_

“I wasn’t saying that I thought you lied, but,” he scooted closer, his knee touching the sleeping futon in the center of the room. “If perhaps you had known him longer, had more time, would you have…?”

The redness in her cheeks darkened. “That is…Nothing happened and that is that!” she snapped, glaring. “Besides, is none of your business!”

He tensed up, raising his hands in surrender…while on the inside, that dark voice in his head, the voice of the nunh whispered to him, _“Nothing happened…on his end, anyway.”_ “Yes, I know but, the way you reacted, I mean…”

“ _What_ way did I react? What?” Mara yelled, leaning closer to him, eyes narrowed. The tendrils of her dark blue hair brushed his chest.

“You…you were…nervous around him.” _Don’t ask, Raha you idiot!_ His sane mind pleaded. “Do you still—?”

“ _Not. Your. Business,”_ she sneered. “Why you bringing this up?”

“I—I just—” _By the twelve, just shut up, Raha!_

“I know what this is,” said Mara skeptically, leaning back, folding her arms across her chest. “You are jealous.”

 _That_ hit Raha like a whip across his face. “Excuse me?”

“That is right! You are jealous! No wonder you come in here—accuse me—”

He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks. “I am not jealous,” he said, glancing away, his ears lowering. _Liar._

“Yes, you are! Why? You think Lord Hien is—after all trouble I went to bring you back from First, you think I still want _him?”_

 _“She was blushing when she saw him, still,_ ” that voice in his head reminded him. “I—I didn’t say that, but—” Raha scratched the back of his neck nervously. Now he was done for.

But she just kept talking. “You think I did not try to move on after you left? That I did not hate you for what you done? I _tried_ , Raha! I did not know you would come back—you did not _want_ me to know when you did! So, yes, maybe I _did_ like Lord Hien, but nothing _ever_ happened—he was just a companion, just someone nice to look at after long day when I was tired and sad and trying so hard not to miss you—it was not like you were there to—” Her finger pointed at his face, an ilm from his nose as she continued.

 _“But I’m here now!”_ The nunh roared.

In one swift movement, he grabbed her arm, rolling over and pinning her against the futon. Her eyes were wide, her hair fanning out beneath her, her mouth in a gasping surprise. “Raha, what are you—” He cut her off as he caught her mouth with his.

“I was gone for all that time,” he said, loosening his grip as he trailed kisses down her neck, to her exposed collarbone. “Maybe I should take the time to make up for it.”

Mara gave a huff—but she didn’t push him away. “You are only doing this because you are jealous.”

“I am not jealous,” he repeated, jealous, as he kissed down to the low neckline of the nightshirt, one hand caressing her hair while the other moved down, down…stroking her clothed thighs while slowly pushing that soft sleep shirt up.

“ _Raha!_ ” said Mara, startled as his hand traced up her inner thigh, his fingers inching closer and closer to her sex. “We’re—someone might hear!”

He moved downward, pushing that shirt up, up, over her hips, revealing her smalls. “Then let them hear,” he said, voice low, the nunh in his head taking over. “I _want_ him to hear.”

His hands pushed apart her thighs as he placed the softest kisses on them—so close to where she wanted, her legs were trembling—her hands clenched in the futon pillow behind her head as his fingers brushed along her smalls, now damp. She let out a breathy gasp as he leaned forward, kissing her _there._

He felt the hard pulse in his member, the _ache_ down below, but he ignored it as he hooked a finger in her smalls and pulled them down. Despite the urging of that feral being deep in his mind, he had not yet made love to her—she had not asked and he would not push. But this, _this_ she had allowed. And, (if her stuttered moans were any indication as he teased close, but not too close, to where she wanted him to touch) she seemed to be _quite_ eager.

 _This_ , he would give her. And hopefully, with _this_ , she would forget all about _Lord Fucking Hien._

His tongue flicked her bundle of nerves as he sank one finger into her, crooking it as he set a slow, sensual pace. “ _Oh!_ ” she gasped as he worked. Another finger, another few flicks, tasting her musk on his tongue as she breathed hard, eyes snapped shut. He pressed up, _up_ , as he rolled the bud with his tongue, sucking hard—

 _“Raha!”_ she cried out, clapping her hand over her mouth, her hips jerking forward.

One more finger, and he set a faster pace, coaxing and stroking and licking and sucking, bringing her close and closer as she writhed and shook and trembled and—

He pulled off her, her slick coating his tongue. “Look at me,” he said, _ordered_ , ruby eyes staring between her thighs. Her violet ones were nearly slits, forced opened as she panted, _whined._ Keeping his eyes on her, he lowered his head once more, tongue moving rhythmic circles, suckling as he moved his fingers just so—

He could feel her hot, velvet walls tensing around him, the pulse in his cock near unbearable (he could attend to that later.) Her thighs shook around him, her eyes falling shut as she let out one last gasp—

 _“Oh—Gods—Nhaama—Raha!”_ She _screamed,_ her head snapping back as her whole body tensed; her insides fluttered around his fingers, as she broke. He lapped at her slit, at the flood of her slick as she came, he would _never_ get enough of that, her scent, her _sex_ —And then after long moments, she fell silent, breathing hard, staring in awe at the ceiling.

Wiping the last remnants of his chin, smirking, Raha came to lay down next to her as she still trembled in the aftershocks. He held her to his body (she could surely fell his member, poking hot and hard into her bottom) nuzzling the top of her head.

Turning around, her pupils still wide, Mara looked at him, forcing a frown. “You will pay for that,” she said, in a way that made Raha _shudder._

“Really?” He grinned. “How?”

She moved so fast he wondered if she had used magic—before he could react, she had pinned _him_ down to the futon, her hands holding his, her knee between his legs. “I am going to make _you_ scream louder,” she said, moving her whole body down to his waistband. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somewhere nearby, Lord Hien holds a pillow over his head and seriously regrets allowing them to spend the night.
> 
> If you want to see more great ffxiv fic, join our [bookclub](https://discord.gg/enabling-debauched-xivfic)!


	9. Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night before he went into the tower, G'raha had one last moment with her...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene was mentioned as happened in [A Tale of Dusk and Dawn](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27721885/chapters/67850803), and also chapter three of [The Color of Midnight](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27948323/chapters/69271530).

This was all wrong.

On the shores of Silvertear Lake, under a sky full of stars, did his dearest wish come true.

But…

G’raha held her close, placing featherlight kisses in her hair, trying to memorize the feel of her in his arms, the touch of her on his lips. He had to staunch the blooming tears in his newly-crimson eyes. For if he let them flow, she would know. He had to push back against the sorrowful beat of his heart, the crack in his voice.

He couldn’t let her know, not now.

Not when tomorrow, all of this would be a memory.

He dipped his head, burying his face in her hair, inhaling her scent, one last time. Old parchment, jasmine flowers, and a fragrant, Eastern spice. He wanted to hold her so close that her scent would cleave to him. Let her be a brand upon his skin, his soul, so that when he awoke, however may hundred, thousand years it may be, then all would know—he was once _hers._

The Allagans had studied time, its properties, its restrictions. If only they had mastered that magic, if only _he_ knew its secrets. He wanted this moment to stretch into eternity, to never end. To let himself think, to _pretend_ , that he’d never have to let her go, never have to say goodbye.

But time, that cruel master of all mortals’ fate, marched ever on. And G’raha Tia’s time had run out.

It was as if a part of himself was wrenched apart when they finally, reluctantly pulled away, and G’raha had to fake a smile on his face, as she looked at him with such joy in her eyes. “Why did we not do that earlier?” she _laughed,_ and it was like a needle prodding into his heart.

“I…I don’t know,” he put on a fake chuckle. _Because I never thought you would…never considered myself worthy of you._

_And now…now…_

Mara turned; looked to the Keeper of the Lake, their silent guardian. “It late…we should…”

“Yeah,” he said, the dream fading back to harsh reality. “Tomorrow is a long day.”

“Tomorrow, we seal tower?” she said, so happily, so naively, and it twisted his heart to see it. “Then, it all over.”

Gulping down the pain, G’raha nodded. “Yes, tomorrow, everything will end.”

She turned to the tower, that horrible, ugly thing, glowing on the horizon. “When I heard of Crystal Tower expedition I wanted—I _hoped_ —I would find something. Maybe Allagan power? Or more knowledge of art of summoning. I thought it was best shot to learn more. Well, I did not learn more, but, I did find something.” She glanced back at him, smiling so wide. “And I am so glad.”

This might be as close to a confession as he’d ever get. “I…” he began, stopped. How could he tell her how much she meant to him? Now, at the end of all things? “You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he said, the words flowing before he could stop them. “I shall never forget this moment— _never_ —until the end of my days.”

She blushed again, her smile soft, warm. “I want to never forget it either,” she said, stepping back toward him. “And…many other moments to come?”

 _Gods,_ it hurt, it hurt so much, but he could do naught but nod as if nothing was wrong. G’raha held out his hand, she took it, and together they walked back to camp.

Every step was agony, like the step of a condemned man on the way to the gallows. Mara was just so, so _happy_ , her soft hand warm in his, the contact sending tingles up his arm. But it was different now, no more innocent, leaping hearts. Now it was torture, knowing what he was going to lose—what he had already lost in his hesitance to act.

_She felt the same way, and I wasted all this time…_

He had thought he was fortune’s fool, but as it turned out, G’raha Tia was the Allag’s plaything; the Twelve had abandoned him the moment his eye was marked in the womb.

“Where do you think we should go?” asked Mara, pulling G’raha out of his desolation.

“Mmm?”

“To travel,” she clarified. “You said wanted to come with me? Adventure, travel? Where to, then? We could go anywhere…” Her violet eyes _sparkled_ at the thought, her free hand gesturing towards the heavens as if they could travel the skies themselves.

“I…wherever you want to go,” G’raha answered, mouth dry. “Wherever you want to lead, I will follow.”

“There are many places in Eorzea to go, how many have you seen? Also across the sea, to Othard, you said you wanted to go someday, yes? But, perhaps, if you wanted to lead…maybe you take me to Sharlayan, Isle of Val. I want to see it, you know. Where you grew up, where you were happy.”

G’raha Tia was a fool; now he was a liar as well. But he couldn’t…he couldn’t ruin this moment. And it gave him some comfort to imagine it—leading her around Sharlayan, taking her to the Isle of Val, introducing her to Krile (Krile would have _loved_ her…and would have teased him endlessly about being right), maybe bringing her to meet Baldesion, the old man looking her over and giving them his blessing, despite the blushes all around. He would show her his favorite tree for climbing, his favorite spots for reading—the mountains on the island he would hike up on rare days off, to get a glimpse of the sky, the fresh air, the lakes he would swim in to relax…Maybe he would push her in, and they would have a brief fight in the water, tumbling and splashing and laughing…and then, late at night, lying in the meadows, the wind blowing about the grass, as they looked up at the stars, and she told him their names…

It was nice, to dream.

“That would be wonderful,” he breathed, one hand reaching up, brushing the tears out of his eyes. “Truly…truly wonderful.”

“It doesn’t matter where to go, really,” she sighed. “As long as I with you.”

He had to clench his teeth to fight the pain.

When they came upon the campsite, it was mercifully quiet; the guards on patrol somewhere else. Mara’s tent was near the edge, facing the lake, just as he had suggested those days ago. Had it really been weeks? It seemed like days, hours now…the whole expedition was a blur, gone far too fast. He would’ve given anything for just a few more days, just a few more hours…just one more night.

For every minute, every second was precious now. The last moments he would have with her, before all came to an end.

They stopped in front of her tent, Mara pausing, looking down, as if she was contemplating something. Her hand did not let go of his. What was she waiting for? For him to kiss her goodnight? He could try, he supposed, but after that kiss down by the lakeshore, when he let himself go, forgot himself for one moment, it would have to be softer, more chaste—

He didn’t want to hurt her any more than he already had.

But…

Her eyes looked back up, met his—his heart beating in this throat once more, the heavy tension in the air.

Was she waiting for something else?

_Thump, thump, thump._

Before he had the courage to go to her, back in his tent as he was writing out his goodbyes, he had a dream, a wild vision of what would happen if she asked him into her tent for the night. It was nothing but a lonely man’s daydream but…

What would he do if she did?

He had to stop himself, had to keep this from going too far, he knew. She would be hurt enough from his selfish actions at the lake. What if he gave into his deeper desires, what if she asked him to make love to her? Could he resist? Could he stop himself, and do what he needed, in order to save her the pain in the end?

But G’raha Tia was a selfish creature.

If she asked, he knew he would not be able to resist.

And he would be damned for it.

After a long moment, the tension was cut. “Well, then…goodnight.” she said, her voice quiet, _beautiful_ as she said his true name.

He let out a long breath. _Thank Azeyma she didn’t ask…_ For now, he would be able to go to his destiny without _that_ regret.

“Goodnight,” he said, and before he could stop himself, he lifted her hand to his lips, kissing it. He closed his eyes, savoring her soft skin beneath his lips, the warmth. When he pulled away, her face was almost as red as his hair, completely flushed. In a daze, she let go, pulling her hand back, cradling it to her chest.

“Good—goodnight,” she repeated, flustered. “See you tomorrow, Raha.” And with that, she pushed the flap back and retreated to her tent.

As soon as she was gone, the façade—his smile—fell. _Raha_ , she had called him—that word meant so much, pulled at his heartstrings every time he heard it…for the last time, now.

Turning away as if to hide the impending tears, he raised a hand to his lips, savoring the memory of hers on them. So soft…so loving…

So beautiful…

He closed his eyes, his other hand contracting into a fist.

_Old parchment, jasmine flowers, and a fragrant, Eastern spice…_

A tear slipped past, fell onto the fingers on his lips.

_Goodnight…and goodbye, my love…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to see more great ffxiv fic, join our [bookclub](https://discord.gg/enabling-debauched-xivfic)!


	10. Foot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mara isn't feeling well...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who cheered me on for this work! While this wasn't initally planned as a part of the series, I saw the prompt and knew I had to do it. Thank you to everyone in the [Bookclub](https://discord.gg/enabling-debauched-xivfic) especially!
> 
> As this story wasn't done in chronological order, if you wish to read chronologically, the correct order would be:  
> 9\. Hand  
> 2\. Forehead  
> 3\. Top of Head  
> 4\. Nose  
> 6\. Lips  
> 1\. Cheek  
> 8\. Thigh  
> 5\. Eyelids  
> 7\. Neck  
> 10\. Foot

“Nghhhh…”

Mara moaned as she collapsed into the couch, facedown in the pillows, the world spinning as she held on to the furniture for dear life. Her stomach was churning, head dizzy, everything wobbly as if the very worst of her concussions had come back to haunt her…

“Sorry about this,” she murmured, fingers clenching into the pillows as she fought the urge to throw up. “I know you were looking forward to it.”

“A concert is a concert, there will be others,” said Raha, slinging his coat over the back of the couch. “How are you feeling though, my love?”

“Like shit,” she said, causing Raha to chuckle. Mara felt his hand on her back, rubbing soothing circles.

“Can I get you anything?”

“Mmm…” she thought, moving her head so she faced the back of the couch, trying to get comfortable despite the nausea. “Water?”

His hand was gone in an instant, and she vaguely heard the sound of a tap and then a glass of cool water was placed on their coffee table. (though, to be fair, all water was cool in Ishgard. It was heated water that was a rarity, as evidenced by Raha’s regular bi-monthly fights with the fire crystals that heated the bathwater of their Firmament house.) “Anything else?” He said, taking one of her hands in his own. His hands were warm, smooth, comforting. “The healer said perhaps a massage?”

“I think that is for the later months, Raha,” Mara sighed, settling down. The room was starting to steady itself.

“Can’t hurt, right?” he said, his eyes sparkling in love. He reached for her. “Perhaps I could—"

“Don’t touch me there!” Mara put her hands out, scampering to the back of the couch as the world spun again.

“Okay! Well then…” Mara put herself facedown into the pillow, taking deep breaths. She felt Raha gently remove her boots, her stockings. His hands rubbed her feet, smoothing her skin. “Does this help?” He placed gentle, featherlight kisses on her feet, like she was a shrine, a statue, not a living woman.

“Not really,” she said, smiling, turning her head to look at him. These last few weeks he had been so _clingy_ , so _attentive_ , and though she protested, said she didn’t like him waiting on her hand and foot—

Secretly, though, she _adored_ it.

Raha worried easily, she had come to find out. Even when she had been the Warrior of Light, perhaps the strongest creature on this star, he had worried and fretted over her every time she was hurt, was sick. Underneath that, Mara knew it was a fear brought about by experience—he had lived in a world where she had perished. He would do anything, willingly give his own life, to keep that from happening again. Even after Hyadaelyn had given her Warrior one final gift—taking back her Echo, her powers, allowing Mara to live her life as just Mara, _only_ Mara, for the rest of her days—though retired now, Raha would never stop worrying, as Mara had come to learn.

It had only gotten worse since…

She had been sick for days when they finally called the healer. It took some soothing before they were able to convince Raha that this was _expected_ , this was _normal—_ the first few months were always hardest on mothers-to-be, after all.

A child. _Their_ child…Mara hard hardly believed it. She had always wondered, of course—she had liked the Kahkol children, back then…but she knew in her life, she’d never have time for them. She was the Warrior of Light. It was her duty to protect Eorzea, protect this star, to go where destiny took her. A child just didn’t factor into that.

Until Hydaelyn took back her gift, that is.

They had not planned on this happening _now,_ so soon, but that it was…

Rolling on her back, staring at the ceiling, Mara placed a hand on her belly. It was flat, but in a few months, she knew she’d start feeling this new life within her. “What do you think it will look like?” she asked, brushing a fallen lock of hair behind her horn. “With us as parents?”

Raha’s fingers paused on her foot. “Of that, my love, I have _no_ idea.” He said, smiling slightly. “Children of two races usually look like the mother, I think?”

“Not always,” Mara remembered Hilda, who had inherited her father’s pointed ears, though slight. “I think there was child of Au Ra and Hyur I met once in Reunion—had horns, but not scales.”

“We’ll just have to find out, then,” Raha scooted closer, kneeling on the floor, placing a hand over hers to gently caress her belly. “Whatever she looks like, I know she’ll be as beautiful as her mother.”

“You think is a girl?”

Raha took her other hand, gently lifting it to his lips. “Miqo’te are something like two-thirds female, my love. Statistics are against us if you were hoping for a boy.”

Mara shook her head. “I really don’t care, but…” She stopped, biting her lip. Though Kahkol had few children born into their tribe, it was always the same song and dance; girls were welcomed, of course, and women could become Warriors of the Steppe, yes, but the fathers always hoped for boys. Big, strong boys to protect the tribe, to fend them off from any dangers. The tribe shamans would bless the couple before marriage, anoint the bride with sacred prayers to increase fertility—prayers for boys, always boys. A sturdy lad to wield the spear, the bow. Such was the way of the Steppe, and though things were changing (Mara hoped that their time under a female khagan had shown a few of them how far a woman could go) she didn’t doubt that in her homeland, the newlywed brides still prayed to Nhaama to be blessed with many, many sons every night. 

“Whatever it is, I’m sure it’ll be running around the house, keeping us on our toes before its even two,” Raha laughed, his voice so carefree at the prospect. “I can’t wait.”

Another wave of nausea hit and Mara groaned. “I can.”

Raha leaned over, placed a kiss on her forehead. “I never thought I would have a child, you know.”

“Really?”

“I never wanted to be a nunh,” he said, pulling back, caressing the back of her hand. “I had no desire for it—I wanted to see the world, to unlock the mystery of my eye. And in Sharlayan, well, I knew that keeping to that path would give me the answers I desired. It did, but…” he paused, no doubt remembering their awful parting at the doors of Syrcus Tower. “When I awoke, learned of what I must do, all that time I was planning for my death. So, I knew from then that children, that a family—those were things that weren’t for _me_ , at least, that was what I told myself.” He kissed the palm of her hand, her fingertips, as if to worship her like a goddess. 

“What about Lyna?” asked Mara, looking back at him as his brows furrowed. “Was she not like a daughter to you?”

He glanced away for a moment, eyes lowering to the floor. “Lyna was…I suppose you could say that. She called me ‘Grandfather’ but I raised her since she was a child. She became…she became a fine young woman. I wish I didn’t have to leave her but…” He swallowed, blinked away the wetness in his eyes. “I hope she is well.”

“She is,” said Mara, reaching up, caressing Raha’s cheek. “I know she is.”

He leaned into her touch, closing his eyes for a moment, savoring the feeling. After a long moment, he murmured, “You’re so good to me. You’ve given me everything I ever wanted, though I did not deserve it.” Opening his eyes, those beautiful, striking, scarlet eyes, he asked, “How will I ever be able to repay you?”

“Hmm…” Mara put a finger to a cheek, pretending to think. “Let me see…” Sitting up, leaning on one elbow, she met him eye-to-eye. “A kiss. Every day, in every way.”

“I’ll give you a thousand, thousand kisses,” said Raha, pulling her to him, into his tender, warm embrace. “So many, that you’ll grow tired of it and push me away.”

“Try it,” she smirked, looking back at him; her love, her mate, her husband, and now, the father of her child.

And, _oh_ , he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to see more great ffxiv fic, join our [bookclub](https://discord.gg/enabling-debauched-xivfic)!


End file.
